Though this is what my group decided in the simulation, in actuality the project did not move forward because of rampant public animosity. I asked the Orsted representative how they negotiated with local communities, and she responded with a video. This video showed an overwhelmingly positive outlook on offshore wind energy development. Most people were hesitant at first, because change is something we are all innately uncomfortable with, but over time communities adjusted and thrived. Fishermen transitioned to flexible desk jobs and earned a stable, higher income. I am skeptical that this video portrayed the full story, for I know that fishermen are usually continuing an intergenerational culture with their line of work. They have a lot of pride surrounding their chosen profession. Switching to a job with less freedom could be a compromise they are uneasy to make. Though this is a green energy company, it still leverages capitalistic marketing strategies to sell their product. In this case, a more sustainable future—but is there a cost to local communities that is being silenced in the process?

Though renewable energy development will reduce the severity of climate change on a global scale, this does not make this industry immune from environmental degradation at the local level. And when thinking about what counts as the “environment,” local communities must be included in this definition. The latter half of Orsted’s presentation was spearheaded by an electrical engineer and teacher named Tony Lee (see image). He spent much of his interactive presentation detailing how their turbine design was environmentally sound. For example, instead of installing the turbines using the cheapest method of hydraulic drilling, they install a jagged, pyramid-like support platform. The former method produces significant noise pollution, while the latter is quieter and allows for marine organisms to aggregate on the base of the structure, theoretically increasing biodiversity. This means that local fish populations could be bolstered, therefore increasing revenue for fishermen. Additionally, during installation they shield out noise with a bubble curtain. This reduces the harm to marine mammals—such as the white dolphin, endemic to the Taiwan Strait and already threatened by anthropogenic influences. Lastly, the layout of the turbines in theory should allow for birds to safely pass through the wind farm, reducing collisions. We were sold an ideal vision of renewable energy compatible with the local ecosystem.

I bought every word Orsted said—until we heard the other unspoken side of the story. We were transported to Baguashan, where we listened to a talk by Dr. Tsai of the Environmental Protection Union on coastal environmental challenges in Taiwan. He covered a lot of ground, describing the diversity of coastal environments found along the 13,000 km of shorelines encircling Taiwan and case studies related to industrial development. He began with a story about the Changhua Industrial Zone, which is a 30,000-hectare area of land that was reclaimed by the government and turned into a multiuse area for industry and renewable energy—specifically solar and wind energy. I didn’t quite understand what Dr. Tsai was describing until I got the opportunity to visit the Industrial Zone at the end of our week in Changhua (see image). Once an expansive mudflat harboring oyster aquaculture, mangrove trees, and a rich swath of biodiversity, this area was now a sandy, mostly unutilized area dotted with wind turbines and solar panels. Apparently, the land was too expensive for industries to develop, so for the most part the land was left bare. Upon arrival we saw a small nest of little tern eggs, with their parents hovering in the sky above, battling the wind. Destroying the mudflats and creating a new type of area inadvertently attracted these little birds, which are often killed by the turbines. From the perspective of Dr. Tsai, altering the land in this way was irresponsible, and in his words, “just stupid.” He approves of renewable energy development, so long as it doesn’t sacrifice the integrity of local environments.

This was the point at which he began to criticize Orsted’s plan to develop an offshore wind energy farm. Though white dolphins were mentioned in the morning as a species that could be affected by development, the issue was brushed aside without a second mention. However, Dr. Tsai made it abundantly clear that this isn’t a negligible issue—in fact, white dolphins are an endangered and culturally important creature to many Taiwanese citizens. When hearing this, I couldn’t help but see the white dolphins as analogous to our Southern Resident Killer Whales in the Puget Sound. A subspecies of orca whales, they only exist in our waters. They are threatened by an onslaught of anthropogenic factors, including noise pollution from ocean vessels and the navy, starvation from reduced salmon runs, industrial pollution, and crowding from tourism. White dolphins, on the other hand, only live in the Taiwan Strait between China and Taiwan, and are affected by marine debris causing lacerations, vessel traffic, industrial pollutants, and noise pollution. Activists are concerned that underwater noise pollution from drilling could cause disruption or hearing loss, thus tipping the dolphins over the edge of what they can handle. Orsted’s mitigative plans aren’t good enough.

In this situation, what activists want is more time for scientists to study the effects of offshore wind energy on the white dolphin population. Like in my simulation of Cape Wind, for all parties to be comfortable with the social and environmental impacts associated with development, they would like there to be more information about these potential effects. But the Taiwanese government has put a clock on construction, rushing ahead with renewable energy installation and forgoing these more thorough studies. This is because, much at the behest of Taiwanese citizens, the government is pursuing a policy of denuclearization by 2025. To meet the high energy needs of city centers, they are racing to find clean alternatives. However, people are worried about the consequences of premature action.

The third significant characteristic of Taichung is the story of the city. In the city build-up of a pleasant climate, a population over 2.5 million people, making it the second-largest city in the country after New Taipei city. In 1705, Taichung is founded in part of Changhua County which originally named Dadun (大墩). During the Qing Dynasty invaded by Manchus consolidated the families in the western center of Taiwan which is the Cheng family. Under this circumstance more and more Han people started immigrating to Taichung which form a bigger centered town. However, in 1895, China lost the Sino-Japanese War which Taiwan is forced to be ceded to the Japanese under the Treaty of Shimonoseki. Dadun has changed its name to Taichū and started to develop as a city, setting up the first "modern" area of Taiwan. Although there is some rebel against the Japanese government, the Japanese still had great plans in Taichung such as setting Taichung station as the central of Taichung, or like great architecture that is useful until nowadays. Then the Republic of China came merging Taichung City and County of Taiwan Province into a new a special municipality of Taichung which created more interactions in between the city and county there is the world-class science museum, the quality National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts, the colors of the Rainbow Village, the stunning architecture at the National Taichung Theater. Here people could also enjoy delicious food and drink, and find cheap and interesting items for sale. These include Yizhong Night Market (一中夜市), Feng Chia Night Market (逢甲夜市), Tunghai Night Market (東海夜市), and Zhongxiao Night Market (忠孝夜市)......etc which builds up Taichung a significant city in Taiwan. Last but not least, According to history and the story of Taichung, the government is changing the city into a smart city. From the coastline to city buildings, farm fields to mountains, the government started to build up bicycle trails, national parks. We directly run to the upright bike enjoying the image created by the simulator of the cycling trails. If possible I will try to go there myself bring my friends and family to re-recognize Taichung.

As we finished lunch around the traditional market, we visited the Taichung Literature Museum. The guide started talking about the history of the architecture which is used to be a police quarter during the Japanese colonial period. It includes 6 different buildings - the administration, themed dining area, workshops and lectures, exhibitions, children’s literature. After introducing each building, the style of architecture draws my attention - architectural concrete by Tadao Ando. Creating the spiral twisting lines on the concrete wall while maintaining the appearance of simplicity, he tries to emphasize the nothingness and empty space in all his masterpiece including the one we visit.

We had a good day in the morning, but a pretty messed up the afternoon with the poem because there is no translation for it. I understand it is for promoting the literature of Chinese, but I think for a non-Chinese speaker will need half an hour to understand a piece of poem.

Still processing our experience at the Earthquake Museum, we headed to the mountains—more specifically, the timber township of Checheng in Nantou County. We have spent much of our trip in cities, so taking the time to venture to a place dripping with foliage was enriching in a different kind of way. As we climbed in elevation, I could see my classmate’s eyes lighting up with wonder at this new place, distinctive from all the other places we had visited previously. We were dropped off just above a jade blue-green river, flowing down from a hydropower plant and into the gully. Surrounded by towering hillsides that couldn’t fit in one photo frame and bustling tourists, we took it all in with our senses and cameras.

Unlike most other field excursions, we have gone on, our experience in Checheng was entirely unguided. Therefore, to discover the history of this place and what it has become, I gleaned information from the tourist village and the surrounding landscape. A railway separated the river from the town, and weathering box carts provided a lens into the past. The train, still active, takes tourists from Checheng to other nearby attractions, such as Sun Moon Lake. However, in the past I can imagine trains transporting stacks of freshly cut timber from the hillside down the mountain, on their way to the nearest port. As we had learned in class, when the Japanese empire occupied Taiwan from 1895-1945, they readily exploited the island for its natural resources. They scraped the hillsides bare for mineral deposits. They scoured through the forests for the most valuable trees. Although camphor trees, Taiwanese incense cedars, and common teaks were all harvested, one tree in particular was prized for its versatility and hardiness: the Taiwan red cypress.

Throughout Taiwan, one can see where this cypress tree has left its mark. In Miaoli county, there is an entire village that highlights the woodcarving culture of the region. Peering into each shop are dozens of stumps, each intricately carved and polished. It is not difficult to recognize the deep red-brown hue of the red cypress, molded by human hands into something new. Traditional medicines and essential oils are sold throughout Taiwan to cure anything from the common cold to bug bites. Cypress oil has a distinctively pungent smell, which simultaneously is soothing for the user and repulsive to bugs. The Taiwan red cypress is also spiritually essential for the people of Taiwan, representing a connection to God and the source of life itself. Considering how people from numerous ethnic groups call Taiwan home, one can only imagine the multiplicity of ways in which the Formosan cypress is valued by this island’s diverse inhabitants.

Even after the Japanese receded from Taiwan, logging continued in Checheng, creating jobs and bolstering the local economy. However, trees like the Taiwan red cypress were exploited to unsustainable levels, and in 1985 logging was banned in the region. Without revenue from timber, the township eventually leveraged its history to transform into a tourism hotspot. But the story of natural resource use in Checheng doesn’t stop there—in fact, one of the most scenic aspects of the township, the river, has been significantly altered by people. In the latter half of our time in Checheng, we hiked above the township through a forest of bamboo to witness the Checheng dam and Mingtan Hydropower Plant from above. Though the waters flowing down from the dam are vibrant with the hues of the stones they carry, the reservoir up top is a murky green-brown pool, bordered by powerlines running up and into the mountains. I remember seeing this from above when flying into Taiwan a month ago—powerlines radiating from the center of the island to major city centers. These rivers are powerful, and there are only so many places in Taiwan where current infrastructural designs can handle the deluge. At this point, the hydropower potential of Taiwan is mostly exploited, and if this island wants to continue on the path toward sustainable development, renewable energy, and environmental responsibility, it will need to turn toward other sources. But in the process, there will always be local impacts to development—even if it is labeled “green” development.

Taiwan is a fascinating place because even in the face of captivating natural beauty, the human influence is always evident. Much of this has to do with Taiwan being an island, and space being limited. In the U.S., there are large swaths of land between environmental abuse and population centers; however, it takes just a turn in the road, a shift in perspective to see how humans have negatively affected the land and local residents alike here in Taiwan. There is no space for environmental conflicts to be out of sight and out of mind. Perhaps this is why many Taiwanese citizens and the government have been trying to lead the change for the future—because it is more than evident what overexploitation has done to this island ecosystem.

Because their home is beyond beautiful, and it is something worth protecting.